


down on all fours

by phorie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/F, Humiliation, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phorie/pseuds/phorie
Summary: The collar is cool as Mercy buckles it in place around Pharah's neck. It's one of her heavier ones, dark and thick and unforgiving, and Pharah feels herself relaxing under the weight of it almost instantly.[consensual rough petplay, dom!Mercy, sub!Pharah]
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 78





	down on all fours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [these](https://overwatch-kink.dreamwidth.org/679.html?thread=986535#cmt986535) [two](https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/27607.html?thread=3966679) kink meme prompts

It starts, as it always does, with Pharah naked and on her knees.

Mercy is curled up on the couch, doing a crossword to pass the time, and even when Pharah crawls over to sit by her feet, she finishes her current clue before setting the newspaper aside and looking down at Pharah. 

The collar is heavy between her teeth and Pharah is grateful when Mercy takes it from her. Pharah sits back on her heels and rests her hands purposefully on Mercy's knees, keeping the two last fingers of her right hand curled in as she does so.

Mercy looks down at her in surprise and says quietly, "Are you certain?"

Pharah nods without hesitation and Mercy smiles. 

They've done this enough times to have a system in place. There's a spectrum of things that Pharah enjoys about this kind of play and so while they agree together on when and where they'll do this, Mercy leaves it up to her to decide the nature of their sessions together. 

The scale stretches from one to ten, with one being soft, relaxing play full of stroking and gentle pets, and ten being the most intense dehumanization Pharah can take. She normally opts for something between three and six depending on her mood, but she's decided that nothing less than an eight will scratch tonight's itch.

Mercy stands, turning the leather of the collar over in her hands, and Pharah lowers her head in submission. 

The collar is cool as Mercy buckles it in place around Pharah's neck, with a hint of dampness on one edge where it was held in Pharah's mouth. It's one of her heavier ones, dark and thick and unforgiving, and Pharah feels herself relaxing under the weight of it almost instantly. 

The tag sits in the dip of her collarbone, a cold silver bone with Pharah's name and Mercy's phone number engraved on it, and she shivers at the touch of it when Mercy strolls across the room and whistles for her to follow.

The cage is for dogs rather than humans, and nowhere near big enough for Pharah to lie in comfortably. There's a blanket lining the bottom to protect her legs from the thin metal bars but that's the only comfort she's allowed as she crawls across the room after Mercy and climbs carefully into the cage.

There's a small toy in Mercy's hand, again for dogs, not humans, and Pharah takes it obediently between her teeth when Mercy holds it to her mouth. 

She gets a soft pat on the cheek in reward and the order, "Don't drop it."

Mercy slips a blindfold over her eyes, locks the cage door behind her without saying a word, and then Pharah is alone, caged and collared and content.

Rationally, she knows there's a practical purpose to it -- Mercy needs time to get herself and her equipment ready -- but curled up in the familiar confines of the dog cage, the slide towards subspace only gets easier and faster.

She doesn't know how long she waits there. Her jaw begins to ache from the effort of holding the toy in her mouth, drool slipping down her chin and chest, but she doesn't even think to remove it. She shifts position after a short while, wincing when her bare shoulder touches the cold metal of the bars, and when she finally hears Mercy walk back into the room, she presses her thighs together in anticipation.

The cage door opens with a clatter and she hears Mercy's voice above her, sharp and controlling, "Heel."

Pharah obeys. Extricating herself from the cage is more difficult than entering it, especially blindfolded, but she only clips her shin on the door once on her way out. 

She stays on her hands and knees, excruciatingly conscious of the drool dripping from her lips but awaiting further instructions in silence.

"I suppose it was too much to ask that you didn't make a mess," Mercy says, chiding. 

The toy is tugged free and Pharah lets out a soft apologetic noise as she ducks her head. 

The blindfold follows, tossed to one side, and Pharah blinks at the dim light as she looks up at Mercy.

She's changed clothes, out of her comfortable sweater and into a silky red negligee which matches the polish on her toes and fingers. It skims her thighs, barely covering her ass and the swell of her breasts, and Pharah licks her lips clean as she looks up hopefully.

Mercy does nothing to conceal her nudity beneath the negligee as she gets Pharah suitably equipped. 

The pads go on first, soft black bands around Pharah's elbows and knees to prevent the worst of the bruising, followed by leather cuffs on her wrists, ankles, arms and thighs. They're hooked together in pairs, wrists to upper arms and ankles to thighs, to force Pharah to keep her limbs bent, and despite her experience in this area, Pharah can't help but wobble on the carpet when Mercy buckles the last link in place.

Next are the mitts, slipping in place over Pharah's hands to keep her fingers pressed together and curled over, and then finally the dark headband that holds Pharah's hair out of her eyes and gives her ears for the evening. 

It's the most restrictive kind of bondage they use, save only the muzzle (which may be coming later for all Pharah knows). They both know that she can't keep it on for long, especially the limb restraints, but even the temporary constriction is worth it. 

Pharah can feel herself sinking deeper into the headspace with every strap and buckle that closes, and she floats between breaths as she waits for the next step.

Mercy's fingers are in her hair, rough and demanding, and Pharah bites back a wince when Mercy ties her hair into two short ponytails. If they're playing more gently, this is a soft, enjoyable part of the evening but as it stands, Pharah can't help but look forward to being dragged around by her hair later on.

"Face down," Mercy orders, tapping the back of Pharah's head.

She obeys, resting her forehead on the carpet and trying not to shiver when she feels something slippery against her ass. 

She's been plugged most of the day in preparation, to ensure she's open and loose enough for this evening, but she fails to stifle a groan when the biggest plug she owns presses against her ass. 

The tail tickles the back of her thighs and Pharah shivers when Mercy orders, "Breathe. That's it. Good dog."

It's impossible to concentrate on anything but the stretch as Mercy works the plug inside her. It's huge, tapering out to the base of the plug and then curving sharply inwards, and by the time it's nestled snugly inside her, Pharah is panting against the carpet.

She whines when Mercy gives the tail a gentle tug, testing its sturdiness, and gets a sharp swat on the ass in return.

"Sit."

Pharah does, settling back on her bound legs, and looks up to see Mercy watching her with an appraising expression.

"Lie down."

It's that kind of evening. With limited use of her limbs, Pharah struggles to lie face down on the ground, feeling the plug shift within her with every breath. 

"Roll over."

It's clumsy but Pharah manages it, to the sound of amused laughter from Mercy.

"Sit."

It takes her too long and Pharah flinches at the open-handed slap Mercy lands against her breast. Mercy's foot taps at Pharah's thigh before another slap lands against her other breast and Pharah hurries to spread her thighs as commanded.

"So slow," Mercy says, with a tone that somehow makes Pharah both wet and terrified. "And I thought you were a well-trained bitch."

Pharah exhales shakily at the name. It varies every time they play -- sometimes she's 'pup', sometimes 'dog', sometimes 'bitch' -- and she lowers her head in the face of Mercy's disapproval.

"Maybe you'll be better at keeping still." Mercy clicks her tongue. "Head up."

Frowning, Pharah complies but her eyes widen when Mercy reaches over to balance a small dog treat on her nose.

"Stay," Mercy says, and although Pharah's attention is focused entirely on the treat, she can hear the smile in Mercy's voice.

Mercy moves away, picking up something across the room, and Pharah's cheeks heat in embarrassment at her situation. 

She glances over, trying to see what Mercy is doing, but winces when the treat topples to the ground, bouncing off her chest as it goes.

"Less than a minute?" Mercy says. She sounds disappointed and Pharah lowers her head in silent apology. "We'll just have to try again until you improve." She clicks her fingers and points to the floor. "Eat it."

Pharah's head snaps up in shock but Mercy's gaze is cold and implacable. 

Humiliation burns through her when she leans forward, bracing herself on her elbows as she lowers her head to the ground and picks up the dog treat. 

It's not the worst thing she's had in her mouth -- that honor goes to the bar of soap Mercy once made her hold in her teeth as a punishment -- but it's definitely in the top five. It tastes like a combination of sawdust and meat and Pharah looks up pleadingly as she grimaces and swallows. 

"Are you going to do better this time?"

Pharah lets out a quiet bark of agreement and tilts her head back for Mercy to balance a second treat on her nose.

Between the discomfort of the bondage, the humiliation of the task and the lingering taste of the treats on her tongue, it's too easy for her to lose concentration.

Mercy makes her eat all the ones she drops. The taste gets no better with the second and third and Pharah tries not to think about the traitorous arousal that pulses between her thighs whenever Mercy points at a fallen treat.

Pharah sighs in relief when Mercy finally lifts the fourth one off her nose and cups her cheek with a smile. "Good girl. I think you've earned a real reward before dinner."

She clips a leash to Pharah's collar and tugs, leading her around the coffee table to Pharah's favorite armchair. Mercy settles in it, spreading her legs wide, and coils the leash around her hand as she draws Pharah closer.

"Be a good bitch and make me come," Mercy says. 

Pharah immediately moves forward, more than happy to have something nicer than dog treats to eat, but is stopped by a finger on her lips. "If you do a good job, you get a nice hot dinner. If not, I don't think I'll bother warming it up for you. Understood?"

Pharah nods. Any food is unlikely to be more than a few mouthfuls -- they learned early on that large meals and rough play were not a good combination -- but after the treats, she understands the importance of those few mouthfuls being palatable.

"Good." Mercy relaxes back in the chair, cupping her breasts through the negligee. "Get to work."

She's bare beneath the babydoll dress, the pale skin of her thighs contrasting with the pink of her cunt, and Pharah can't keep from smiling as she inches forward. 

The position is awkward; bound as she is, she's forced forward onto her knees in order to reach Mercy. Her hands and arms are all but useless and she lets out a little whimper of frustration as she struggles to find a suitable position.

Above her, Mercy drums her fingers on the armrest of the chair in a clear sign of impatience, and Pharah lets herself tip forward, resting the weight of her upper body against the chair as she buries her face between Mercy's legs.

She's turned on already, although nowhere near as much as Pharah is, and Pharah feels her wetness coat her nose and chin as she runs her tongue down to dip inside Mercy's entrance. 

Mercy's hand closes in her hair, tugging on one of the ponytails, and Pharah lets herself be guided upwards to Mercy's clit. From the pleased sigh above her, the light suction Pharah applies is appreciated and despite the discomfort of the position, it's easy enough for Pharah to slip into the familiarity of the routine.

Mercy is quiet, not offering any praise or criticism as Pharah works her tongue over her clit in steady strokes. It's only through the change in her breathing and the occasional gasp or moan that Pharah can even tell she's having an effect.

Her breathing gets quicker, her hand tightening in Pharah's hair as she rapidly approaches climax, and Pharah smiles to herself when she hears a choked cry from above her, "God-"

She can feel the second it hits. Mercy's thighs clench around her head and Pharah sucks in a quick breath before she's grabbed by the hair and held against Mercy's cunt as she rides out her orgasm against Pharah's face. 

Pharah keeps licking, even as Mercy's thighs go lax again, and she can't keep the satisfaction off her face when Mercy tugs her head back with a pleased sigh.

"Sit," Mercy orders. 

Mercy's chest is still heaving and after Pharah sits back on her heels, it takes a long moment for Mercy to push herself up off the chair.

"Not bad," she says, looking down at Pharah. "Not your best effort but adequate. You've earned a small reward." She clicks her fingers. "Nose on the ground. Stay."

Pharah fumbles to obey, resting her nose against the carpet and raising her ass in the air. Mercy gives her ass a quick swat with what feels like a rolled-up newspaper but then walks across the lounge and out into the kitchen. 

Left alone, Pharah listens to the clatter of pans and cutlery and wriggles impatiently on the carpet as she licks the last taste of Mercy off her lips.

Mercy returns a few minutes later. Pharah can smell the freshly-cooked eggs as she walks over but she doesn't move from her position on the carpet when Mercy sets two bowls in front of her and sits back in Pharah's chair.

"Up."

Pharah's knees are starting to ache when she pushes herself up to look at Mercy. There are two dog dishes by Mercy's feet, one filled to the brim with water and one containing a small heap of warm, scrambled eggs, seasoned with salt and pepper. 

Pharah's mouth waters but she doesn't make a move -- it wouldn't be the first time that Mercy has given her hot food only to make her wait for it to go cold before she eats it. 

From the smile in Mercy's voice, she's remembering the same thing when she says, "Drink."

The water is cool and refreshing, even when lapped out of the bowl with just Pharah's tongue, and she lets out a grateful whimper as she drinks her fill, glad to be rid of the last of the taste of the dog treats.

The eggs sit in the next bowl, fluffy and delicious, but Pharah closes her eyes with a groan of humiliation when Mercy puts one carefully-manicured foot in the heap of food.

"Eyes forward," Mercy says firmly. "This is what you deserve, isn't it?"

Her toes dig into the eggs, mashing them against the metal of the bowl, and Pharah's face heats as she nods. 

"Clean me up."

Mercy doesn't take her foot out of the bowl, just plants her heel in Pharah's food and raises her toes for attention. The situation rides that sharp line of shame, forcing Pharah into that discomforting zone of being turned on by something she never thought she'd be doing, and she shivers under Mercy's cold gaze as she leans down to the bowl.

The eggs are as delicious as they smelled but any relief at the taste is offset by the embarrassment of having to eat her dinner off her owner's feet. Mercy wiggles her toes as Pharah licks them each in turn and then laps at the top of her foot to clean it off. 

She chokes when Mercy pushes her foot deeper into her mouth with a mocking laugh. "Good bitch."

She digs her toes into the eggs again, with slow and purposeful movements designed to taunt more than anything else, and then raises them for Pharah's attention as she says, hand sliding between her legs, "God, look at you."

Pharah can hear the wet slip of Mercy's fingers working over her clit but she keeps her attention on the foot in her face.

"I thought even dogs had some standards about what they ate but obviously not." She digs into the eggs again, smearing them across Pharah's mouth when she doesn't eat them fast enough. "Maybe we should do this in the canteen on Monday? Let everyone see what a greedy little bitch you are?"

It's an empty threat -- this kind of play never leaves their home -- but Pharah shudders with arousal at just the thought of being treated like this in front of others. 

She licks eagerly, cleaning the last of the food off Mercy's feet, and then lets out a surprised yelp when Mercy moves her foot to the back of Pharah's head to push her face down into the bowl.

"Eat it all," Mercy says. "Good dog."

Grease coats Pharah's cheeks as Mercy holds her down and she does her best to eat the eggs as quickly as possible. As expected, there aren't more than a few mouthfuls and she tries to focus on the thought of Mercy being pleased enough to make her fresh eggs rather than the pressure of Mercy's foot shoving her face down into a dog bowl.

"Lick it clean. I want to see my face in it when you've finished."

The weight on the back of her head lifts but Pharah licks diligently at the metal bowl until all traces of the food have gone. 

"Good girl." Mercy's fingers scritch through her hair, tickling her neck above the line of the collar, but Pharah jerks in surprise when the soft pets are followed by a sharp tug on the leash. "I think it's time we let you relieve yourself. Don't want you making a mess in the house, do we?"

Fresh shame courses through her but Pharah doesn't object when Mercy stands and begins to lead her across the room. The kitchen floor is cold, even through the pads, and Pharah swallows hard when she hears the patter of rain against the back door.

The night air is freezing when Mercy opens the door and unclips her leash, and Pharah shivers. Her nipples harden in the cold and she whimpers as she clenches up around the plug involuntarily. 

"Do your business," Mercy says, staying in the doorway out of the rain, "and then fetch."

She reaches over to the countertop and holds two toys in front of Pharah's face. "Which one should we play with today?"

Neither option is good. The dildo is short and red, easy to get fucked with but less easy to carry in her mouth, but while the plastic bone in Mercy's other hand is lighter, Pharah knows from experience just how loud it squeaks when she picks it up. 

Ease wins over volume, though, and she nudges the bone with her nose and makes a quiet pleading noise.

Mercy tosses the bone back onto the counter with a wicked grin. "Good choice."

Pharah groans -- she should've seen that coming -- and braces herself for the shock of cold when Mercy tosses the plastic cock out into their yard with a whistle. "Fetch!"

Ever-obedient, Pharah crawls out in the rain to obey. 

She heads to the side of the yard first and can't bring herself to look back at Mercy when she relieves herself in the grass. It's awkward and humiliating, trying to balance on one knee with her other leg raised like a dog, but as the rain beats down on her back, she's eager to get back inside as quickly as possible.

She hears Mercy's laugher float across on the wind and she crawls away in search of the toy. The grass is slippery beneath her bound arms and legs, her elbows and knees sliding in spite of the pads, and she feels dirt splatter against her thighs and shins as she leans down to grasp the dildo between her teeth.

It feels like miles back to the house. Her limbs ache from the bondage and even the burn of humiliation can't outweigh the chill of the rainwater as she crawls back to Mercy's feet with the thick dildo held in her mouth. 

"Good girl!"

Mercy sounds delighted as she reaches down to cup Pharah's cheek but any relief quickly dissipates when she eases the cock from Pharah's mouth and lobs it far out into the yard again. 

"Stay," Mercy orders before Pharah can set out again, and Pharah almost sobs in relief when she reaches down to unclip the restraints keeping her ankles bound to her thighs. 

Her muscles ache at the newfound freedom and she stretches her legs out one at a time before bumping her head against Mercy's thigh in a gesture of thanks.

She gets a slap on the ass for her troubles, hard enough to jar the plug, and she moans when Mercy says again, "What are you waiting for? Fetch! Or do I need to get the cane?"

The answer to that is an emphatic 'no' and Pharah takes off across the grass as fast as her exhausted limbs can carry her. 

It's easier with her legs unbound but the rain doesn't let up as she searches the grass for the toy. The pads on her elbows and knees are soaked through, as are her ears and tail, and she blinks water out of her eyes as she leans down to pick up the toy again.

Her elbows slip out from under her, dropping her down onto her chest in the grass, and she can feel the dirt coating her tits and stomach as she struggles back up to all fours. Even with the pounding rain, she's sweating when she clamps her teeth around the toy and begins the trip back to Mercy.

Her reward is another soft stroke and Pharah leans into the touch with a whine. Mercy's hand is warm against her cheek and Pharah stretches her jaw when Mercy plucks the fake cock from her mouth.

"One more," Mercy says, and gives Pharah a kiss on the forehead. "Be a good dog and make me proud."

She throws the dildo out once more and then crouches down to release Pharah's arms from their restraints. Her elbows still ache but it's immediately easier to balance in the wet grass when she can use her forearms for balance, and she gives Mercy's thigh another grateful nudge before she sets out once again.

The gratitude ebbs when she realizes where Mercy has thrown the toy this time. It's clearly visible in the moonlight now but Pharah squares her shoulders in determination when she's forced to crawl into the flower bed at the end of the yard to retrieve it. 

After an evening of rain, the soil beneath her is closer to mud. It covers her shins and forearms as she crawls forward and as she leans down to retrieve the toy, she flinches at the feel of mud smearing over her breasts and face when they brush the ground.

By the time she makes it back to Mercy, she doesn't even want to think about what she looks like. Every part of her body that she can see is dripping with rainwater and splashed with mud, and from the amused grin on Mercy's lips, she's pretty sure the rest of her body looks just as bad.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Mercy says, looking her over with disdain. "You always were filthy, weren't you?"

Pharah isn't sure whether it's tears or rainwater in her eyes as she looks up at Mercy and nods.

"Do you think you deserve to come back inside like this?"

Pharah closes her eyes and shakes her head, the plastic dick still held between her teeth.

"No," Mercy agrees. "I should chain you out here all night, shouldn't I? Let you fuck yourself on that cock to keep you warm?"

Pharah knows she's crying when she nods. It's good but too much; the cold, the rain, the tail, the restraints, the humiliation, it all builds to steal the breath from her lungs, and she shivers as she tries to pull in air past the toy in her mouth.

She isn't entirely sure what happens next. Before she knows it, she's inside the house again, the toy discarded somewhere and a towel wrapped around her shoulders. The restraints are still in place, the soaked tail resting against her thigh, but Mercy is crouched in front of her with a look of concern on her face.

She cups both her cheeks, wiping the last of her tears away with her thumbs, and leans in to kiss Pharah on the forehead. "Good girl. You're doing a good job, aren't you, pup?"

Pharah nods out of habit. 

Mercy smiles and kisses her again. "Do you want to keep going?"

Pharah pauses to catch her breath and meets Mercy's eyes as she nods firmly. She adds a quick bark for good measure and heat blossoms in her chest when Mercy beams at that.

"Good dog."

She stands up again, clipping the leash back onto Pharah's collar, and clicks her tongue. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Pharah feels like she's floating as she follows along at Mercy's feet. She's still soaked from the rain but the worst of the mud seems to have been wiped clean when she crawls up the stairs towards their bathroom.

She sits back on her heels as Mercy begins to fill the bath, and Mercy glances over her shoulder with a smirk. "Play with yourself. Show me what that cunt is good for."

Pharah moves a hand between her legs without a second thought. 

Her fingers are still bound, trapped in the mitts, but she's wet enough that her balled fist slides against her pussy without any difficulty. Her thighs tremble at the first brush of pressure against her clit and Pharah pushes her hips forward into the touch.

Between the mitt and the coldness of her fingers beneath, it almost doesn't feel like her own hand. Pharah grinds down against it, beyond relieved to finally have some attention on her clit, but she barely makes any progress towards an orgasm when Mercy strolls back over.

"Arm."

Whimpering, Pharah lifts her right arm. Mercy unbuckles the cuffs around her arm and wrist, before easing the mitt off her hand and finally tugging off the muddy pad on her elbow. Pharah's arm drops limply back to her side when she finishes and she allows herself to be manhandled as Mercy removes the restraints from her other arm and then both her legs in turn.

The ears and tail stay in place and Pharah pulls herself back to her hands and knees when Mercy turns off the water and taps the edge of the bath. "Heel. Good bitch."

The name produces another trickle of arousal and Pharah fights the urge to touch her clit as she clambers into the bath.

The water is warm but shallow, only coming up to her thighs when she sits back on her heels. Mercy looks her over and then taps her forearm as she says, "Put your hands on your head and keep them there. I want to make sure you're clean all over."

Pharah frowns but complies. Her hair is soaked from the rain and she stretches her sore fingers before she rests her hands on her head.

Trepidation builds when Mercy perches on the edge of the bath, the showerhead in one hand and what looks like some kind of brush in the other. 

Pharah yelps in surprise when Mercy sprays water over her chest but is relieved to find it's as warm as the bath water. Mercy moves the showerhead up and down her body with care and the remaining mud slides off her skin, turning the water dark around her knees. 

Pharah closes her eyes when the spray finally hits her face, washing away the remains of the food, her own saliva, and Mercy's slickness from her cheeks.

Her eyes fly open again a second later at the first touch of the brush.

It's wide and stiff, far softer than a hairbrush but with thick bristles, and Pharah cries out when Mercy scrubs it over the plane of her stomach. 

It does its job, scraping the dirt off, but Pharah's skin reddens in its wake and she shifts at the discomfort. That doesn't deter Mercy in the least and Pharah tips her head back with a groan as Mercy drags the brush down over her thighs and calves. 

She yells, almost cursing, when Mercy scrubs the ticklish underside of her feet, and gets a slap across the breasts for her troubles. The brush doesn't stop, moving up over the swell of her ass and then along her spine to her shoulders, leaving a trail of prickly heat in its wake.

Pharah thinks for a brief, shining moment that her breasts will be spared but one glance at Mercy's smile disproves that theory. She works upward, pressing the brush against the underside of Pharah's breasts and then swiping it cruelly over her nipples. 

Pharah jerks each time, clenching her hands into fists and crying out at the pin-prick pressure, but when Mercy lowers the brush to swipe between her thighs, suddenly the attention paid to her breasts doesn't seem as bad.

The brush sweeps over her clit, light but still intense, and Pharah bites back a sob as she looks up at Mercy with wide, pleading eyes. 

She doesn't know if it's Mercy taking pity on her or if she's just finished already but she sags in relief when Mercy sets the brush and the showerhead down.

Mercy's hand slides down, rubbing over Pharah's sensitive clit, and Pharah grits her teeth when Mercy asks, smirking, "I think it's time I let you come, bitch. Don't you?"

Pharah makes a pleading sound which soon turns to a whimper when Mercy pulls her hand away.

"You're going to have to work for it though," Mercy says. "I can't let my dog be too greedy, can I?"

Pharah shakes her head. Her legs are unsteady when she climbs out of the bath and she can feel the pleasant ache of bruises building on her knees as she crawls at Mercy's heels once again. 

Thankfully, she doesn't have to go far. The mattress dips beneath her as she climbs up onto the bed on Mercy's instruction and it's only when her pillow is within reach that Pharah realizes just how exhausted she is from the evening's exertions.

There's no way she's falling asleep without her hard-earned orgasm though, and she looks up expectantly as Mercy retrieves something from the closet.

She holds it behind her back as she approaches and gives Pharah a small smile when she says, "You remember how dogs get to come, don't you, bitch? There are no hands involved."

Pharah is pretty sure she'd ride whatever Mercy told her to at this point in order to come. She kneels up on the bed, ready to beg, but blinks in surprise when Mercy sets the helmet of her Anubis suit between her knees.

It's big and sturdy, designed to fit over Pharah's head and then jut out in the front with the upper jaw of a jackal, and she looks up at Mercy with wide eyes when she pieces together exactly how she's going to be made to come tonight.

"It seems appropriate, don't you think?" Mercy says, running her fingers over the ridged snout of the helmet. "A bitch in heat humping another dog to get off." 

Her gaze sharpens when she says simply, "Make yourself come."

Discarding what tiny fragments of her dignity remain, Pharah spreads her thighs wide enough to let her pussy rest against the top of the helmet. The still-wet tail dangles from her ass, the weight of it pulling at the plug inside her, and she clenches around it as she rocks her hips forward in a slow, experimental thrust.

It feels shamefully good.

Already sensitive from a whole evening of play, she bites her lip with a cry when her clit moves over the ridges of the helmet. It's long enough for her to ride without too much difficulty, grinding down on it between the nose to the ears, and Pharah braces her arms on her thighs as she pushes down onto it desperately.

Her legs ache but the pain fades from uncomfortable to satisfying as she puts her sore muscles to use in order to move faster against the helmet. It shifts, threatening to tip over, and she presses down harder to use the force of her body to hold it in place as she sets a steady pace.

Mercy doesn't say anything, just watches with a silent smirk, but Pharah doesn't need any more encouragement than that. The whole evening has built to this -- being fed dog treats, eating Mercy out while bound, licking her dinner off Mercy's feet, and finally being forced to play fetch in the pouring rain -- and Pharah lets the tidal wave of humiliation wash over her as she acknowledges her current situation: plugged, collared, and now riding her own helmet to come.

She's close and she lets out a pleading whine as she tips her head back. She's beyond wet, her cunt sliding easily over the helmet, and she sobs out a plea as she grinds down harder in search of that last rub of friction.

"You can come."

Her release hits with the force of a punch. Gasping, Pharah drops forward, resting her arms on the bed as she rides the ridges of the helmet. Her hips jerk, moving in stuttering bursts as her orgasm sweeps through her as a pounding wave, and she presses her face into the covers to muffle her moans. 

Mercy's hand is in her hair in a second, forcing her head back up. With nowhere to hide, Pharah sobs through pulse after pulse of it, as shame and arousal combine to drag out one of the strongest orgasms of her life.

She collapses onto the bed as soon as Mercy releases her hair.

She's shaking, tremors running through her fingers and thighs, and she blinks dumbly up at the bedroom ceiling when she feels Mercy stroking her hair.

She's not sure when the band with the ears was removed or when her hair was untied but the tickle of Mercy's nails against her scalp is gentle and soothing, and Pharah looks up at her with unfocused eyes. 

She isn't sure if she's allowed to speak yet, or if her mouth even remembers how to form words, but that doesn't seem to matter when Mercy leans over to kiss her on the lips.

Her fingers find the buckle on Pharah's collar when she pulls back and Pharah takes a deep breath when the leather falls away, marking a definite end to the scene.

"Mnnn."

Mercy smiles as she strokes her hair again. "You can speak now."

"Mnnn," Pharah says again, and Mercy's smile widens.

She feigns a frown, resting a hand against Pharah's forehead as if to check for a fever, and teases, "Oh no, have I broken you?"

"Close," Pharah says honestly. "That was..."

She trails off with a sigh, not able to find the words yet, but Mercy gives her another kiss regardless. 

"I was worried it might be too much," Mercy admits, "but we can debrief tomorrow. Right now, you need to shower and sleep."

Pharah wrinkles her nose at the thought of moving. "I'm clean."

"Scrubbing you down with a dog brush doesn't count as bathing," Mercy says. "Especially after I made you go through all that mud."

She makes a fair point and for the first time, Pharah looks at the bedding beneath her and sees the streaks of dirt she's left on it. 

She bolts up, embarrassed, and starts to get to her feet. "Shit. I'm sorry, I can change-"

"Shh," Mercy says, in a tone that allows no argument. "I wouldn't have put you on the bed if I wasn't prepared for the mess." She stands too, helping Pharah to her feet, and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss her. "Get in the shower; I'll change the sheets."

Still half-asleep and floating, Pharah smiles dopily at her. "You're so organized."

Mercy laughs. "It's a gift." She gives her a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom. "Now shower. And take that plug out while you're in there."

The wet tail swings against Pharah's thigh and she grimaces as she gives Mercy a mock-salute. "Yes, ma'am."

That earns her a playful slap on the ass and Pharah smiles as she heads in the direction of the bathroom. "I'm going!"

"Good!" Mercy calls after her. 

Pharah hears the rustle of sheets behind her as she makes a beeline for the shower, but just catches Mercy's next words, "Maybe I'll join you once I'm done here."

The plug shifts inside her but as she ducks into the shower to await Mercy's company, Pharah decides she can live with it just a little longer.


End file.
